


Caught Between Love and Duty

by Daenerys1417



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Fluff, Insecurity, Jon knows about R plus L equals J, Jonerys Unites, Makeup Sex, Smut, dany thinks she's barren, map table sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 17:22:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15976946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daenerys1417/pseuds/Daenerys1417
Summary: Post Season 7 Finale.  Jon and Dany are at Winterfell preparing for battle against the Night King and his army.  Jon has only recently discovered his true heritage while Dany is battling insecurities of her own regarding her ability to bear children.  Is she truly willing to forego her own happiness if it means restoring the Targaryen Dynasty?  And would Jon go along with it?





	Caught Between Love and Duty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Smugjonerysshipper on Tumblr who donated to the Jonerys Charity Auction for UN Women in exchange for this story! She wanted angst and smut and I hope this story is satisfactory ;-)
> 
> For anyone else interested in donating to UN Women: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/joneryshelpswomen

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/jennadawinna/43741368665/in/dateposted-public/)

Daenerys awoke lazily to a raining of tiny kisses along her neck and shoulders.  She kept her eyes closed, a smile curving her lips as she stretched beneath the heavy furs, reveling in the warmth of Jon’s body next to hers.  His hand ran possessively down her side, his thumb lightly grazing over the swell of her breast, before trailing down to her hip, his fingers digging into the flesh there. She snuggled against him with a happy sigh, leaning back against his muscular chest as they spooned, her softness filling his hard angles.

 

He had come to her chambers the previous night after a week of avoiding her upon the revelation of his parentage, the truth shaking him to his very core.  The news had hit her just as hard, causing her to question everything she’d ever believed in, including her life’s purpose.  One thing that would never change, however, was that she was helplessly in love with Jon Snow, regardless of the fact that he was her nephew. Having grown up with the belief that she would one day marry her older brother, Viserys, she’d had no qualms about engaging in the Targaryen tradition of incest, but Jon had felt differently:

 

 

_“I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry,” he’d said, tears streaming down his face as he told her that they could no longer be together – that it was wrong.  “My entire life’s been turned upside down.  I don’t know who I am anymore.”_

 

_“You’re who you’ve always been,” she’d told him sadly, brushing away her own tears. “You’re the man I fell in love with – brave, honorable, and kind.  A different name doesn’t change that.”_

_The sorrow had emanated from him in palpable waves as it played upon her mood like a low, melancholy tune, wringing her emotions with each increasingly mournful note until her heart twisted in anguish and her soul cried out for relief – hers, his. “Jon…please…don’t do this,” she’d cried, reaching out for him._

_He’d backed away, putting up his hands to ward her off and it felt like a knife twisting in her heart.  “I don’t want the throne,” he’d whispered, looking down at the ground, unwilling to meet her eyes.  “It’s yours, Dany.”_

_“No,” she’d said, shaking her head.  “It’s ours. We’ll take it back … together, Jon.”_

_But he’d only cast one last apologetic look in her direction before walking away, shattering her world into a thousands pieces.  For the next several days, he busied himself with his men, leading scouting missions and planning battle strategies while treating her coolly, as if they’d never been anything more than political allies.   It had been heartbreaking, and while she was able to present a calm and unbothered facade to her advisors and the northern lords during the day, her nights were spent alone in her chambers, crying inconsolably with only Missandei to comfort her._

 

The memory of those painful nights was still fresh in her mind, and even though Jon had eventually come around, apologizing profusely as he professed his undying love, sweet promises of marriage and a Weirwood Tree murmured between his urgent kisses, a small part of her still worried. The battle ahead of them was perilous and they were just as likely to triumph against the Night King and his army, as they were to suffer defeat, sacrificing their lives, and those of everyone they held dear, in the process.  And even if they did somehow manage to win the War for the Dawn and then take the Iron Throne from Cersei, the Targaryen dynasty would never truly be restored because she was unable to perform the most basic of wifely duties – produce heirs.

 

As if reading her mind, knowing that she was in need of comfort and reassurance, Jon turned her around to face him. Cradling her face in his hands, he kissed her, a soft brushing of his lips against hers, like the sea brushing against the shore.  She parted her lips in a sigh of pleasure as his tongue slid into her mouth.  Her lashes fluttered closed, and her fingers slid into his raven curls, pulling him closer.  She loved the feel of him, the texture of his skin and the taste of his sweet lips.

 

As he tore his mouth from hers, his deep brown eyes burned with unmistakable longing.  “Good morning, my Queen,” he said, his voice still rough from sleep.

 

“My King,” she cooed lovingly, as he reclaimed her mouth, his kiss fierce and hungry. 

 

He rolled on top of her, her breasts crushed against his wide chest, and the sinewy strength of his thighs nudging hers apart.  His desire was evident in the bold stroke of his tongue, in the strength of his embrace, and in the hardness poking into her lower belly.  Despite the swooning, intense sensations he was evoking with his mouth and body, however, she had yet to lose herself entirely in what they were doing.  She couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that his seed would never take hold within her womb.  Fate had cruelly deprived her of ever being able to hold a living child in her arms and the thought that her family line would end with her and Jon was almost too much to bear.

 

“What is it, love?” Jon asked, picking up on her distress.  He kissed her tenderly, tucking a lock of silver hair behind her ear, but her brows were still furrowed with worry, her mind spinning hopelessly out of control.

 

She drew a shaky breath, her amethyst eyes finding his.  “Jon, I’ve been thinking.  You are a true Targaryen and I… I am barren…”

 

Jon shushed her with a kiss.  “You know I don’t care about that,” he said softly.  “I love you, Daenerys…” – another sweet kiss – “… I love you for your kind and gentle heart, not your womb.”  He pulled back, looking down at her for a long moment as his hand caressed her face, his fingers trailing down over her plump lips to stifle any objections.  “Between being raised to believe I was a bastard and my Night’s Watch vows, fatherhood has never been a priority for me.  We don’t need children to be happy, love.  All we need is each other.”

 

Daenerys shook her head. “Jon, you don’t understand. We have a responsibility.  It’s our duty to ensure the survival of our family line.  It’s _your_ duty…”

 

Jon frowned, his dark eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What are you saying, Daenerys?”

 

She steeled herself for what she was about to say. “Our great ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, had two wives – Rhaenys and Visenya.  You should do the same, Jon.  You should take a second wife, someone who is fertile, so that our family name lives on.”

 

“No!  Absolutely not!” he hissed, his face contorted with disgust.  “You expect me to lie with another woman?  Pledge my heart, soul, and body to someone I don’t love? You offend my honor!”

 

“Jon, it’s the only way!” she cried, willing him to understand.  The thought of him being intimate with another woman made her sick to her stomach, but she was willing to sacrifice her happiness if it meant the survival of her family.

 

“No!” he shouted, standing up and searching for his tunic and breeches.  “Do not ask this of me, woman!”

 

“Jon!  What about our family?” she pleaded, her eyes filling with tears.

 

Jon just looked at her, his eyes blazing with anger, his jaw stiff and hard.  She had never seen him so angry before.  He dressed in silent rage, picked up his sword, and stormed out of the room, slamming the door hard behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

The next several days were as bad as they were when Jon first received news of his parentage, worse even.  He treated her cordially when they were in public, performing their duties as leaders, but otherwise ignored her.  And when she looked into his eyes, she no longer saw the longing and internal conflict that had been there before.  Now all she saw was disgust, hurt, and anger.  She had wounded him, she knew, but if only she could make him understand.  She wasn’t giving up on their love.  She was only trying to protect the Targaryen family name from becoming extinct.  She didn’t want them to go the way of the Tyrells, Freys, and Martells.  No, House Targaryen must live on.

 

Tired and exhausted from another day scouting the skies on Drogon, she retired to her chambers, asking Missandei to bring a tray of food to her room.  She didn’t want to dine in the Great Hall.  She was used to the hateful stares she received from the northern lords, and even the suspicious glares from Lady Sansa who was polite, but never engaged in more conversation than what was absolutely necessary.  What she couldn’t handle, however, was sitting next to Jon with a fake smile plastered on her face, pretending that nothing was wrong when the truth was that she felt like she was dying inside.  Despite coming to save the North, she was unwelcome. Distrusted.  Even hated.   Her advisors were her only friends.  And the man that she had fallen in-love with, her soul mate, wanted nothing to do with her.

 

A knock at the door caught her attention, and she quickly brushed the tears from her eyes, walking over to open it, daring to hope that it might be Jon.  The door creaked open only to reveal Tyrion on the other side and her face fell immediately.

 

“Expecting someone else, perhaps?” Tyrion asked, arching a bushy eyebrow at her.

 

Daenerys flushed but quickly recovered, her tone haughty.  “Why would you think that?”

 

“No reason,” he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. He walked inside without invitation, sauntering over to her flagon of red wine and pouring out two glasses. “I’ve noticed that you and Jon Snow seem… distant,” he said, offering her a glass. “I take it he’s still upset over finding out his true parentage?”

 

Daenerys frowned as she took a sip of the bitter drink, which caused a burning sensation as it trickled down her throat.  “I see that you are most curious about my personal affairs, Lord Tyrion.  Why is that?”

 

“I am your Lord Hand,” he said acidly. “It’s my job to be knowledgeable of your personal affairs, your Grace.”

 

She sighed, knowing she wouldn’t be able to avoid his questioning forever.  Besides, she needed to get it off of her chest and she didn’t want to drag Missandei down with her misery any longer.  “Jon Snow isn’t upset about his parentage.  It’s something else now… something I said.”

 

“Which was?” Tyrion asked, taking a heavy sip of wine. 

 

“I told him I wanted him to take a second wife!” she blurted out.

 

Tyrion nearly choked his drink.  “You told him _what_?”

 

She looked at him sorrowfully.  “I told him he should take a second wife…to carry on our family name.  He is a trueborn Targaryen, there is no reason for our line to end just because I am barren.”

 

Tyrion sighed heavily, shaking his head at her. “We spoke about this business of heirs once before, your Grace, if I remember correctly.  We talked of breaking the wheel and forging a new Westeros that wouldn’t be based on nobility and bloodlines. You’ve found your true love with Jon Snow and he’s found it with you and now you’re willing to throw all of that away? Why?”

 

“I wouldn’t be throwing anything away!” she countered, a rush of indignation sweeping through her.  “I’d only be ensuring the continuation of our line.” 

 

“Jon would resent you. You know that as well as I do,” he said calmly.  “You’d be poisoning your relationship from the inside out and that certainly wouldn’t be good for the realm.  And do you really want to watch the man you love taking on another wife?   Being intimate with her?  Having children with her?”

 

She jutted her chin out stubbornly. “Aegon the Conqueror and his two sister-wives…”

 

Tyrion waved her off.  “A different time, a different era, my Queen.”

 

She sighed helplessly, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall as she sank into a nearby chair.  “I just thought…”

 

“I know,” he said, his voice softening.  “It’s only natural to want to ensure the survival of your family line, but I’m afraid the cost would be too great, my Queen.  You would only end up resenting yourself, and resenting Jon for going along with it.”  He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.  “Your worth isn’t based on your ability to have children, your Grace. It’s not the reason why Jon fell in love with you.  And it’s certainly not the reason why so many of us have chosen to follow you.”

 

She nodded solemnly.  “You’re right, Lord Tyrion.”

 

“I’ve been known to be from time to time,” he said with a wry grin.

 

A sinking feeling suddenly settled in the pit of her stomach and she stood up in a panic, realizing that she’d made a terrible mistake.  “I need to find Jon,” she mumbled as she rushed out the door, praying to whatever gods existed that it wasn’t too late.

 

* * *

 

She found him in the war room, pouring over a map of Westeros as he arranged small figurines into battle formations.  He was currently fixated on the area near Last Hearth, the ancestral home of House Umber.  The latest reports on the Night King’s movements indicated that his army was slowly advancing south, having already attacked Eastwatch and Castle Black. Last Hearth would be next and Jon had been working tirelessly to develop a defense strategy, as well as an evacuation plan in case the Castle fell and survivors were forced to flee to Winterfell.

 

He looked tired; dark, heavy bags sat underneath his eyes and deep lines of worry marked his handsome face.  He obviously hadn’t been sleeping well and she immediately felt guilty because she knew that in addition to worrying about protecting the realm, she had added additional stress and turmoil to his life.

 

He looked up, as if expecting to see Ser Davos or one of his siblings, rather cousins, but frowned once he saw that it was Daenerys.  The look he gave her was cold as ice, his dark, penetrating gaze sending a chill down her spine.  After an uncomfortable moment of silence, he resumed concentrating on the map in front of him, his stiff body language indicating that she was unwelcome in his presence and would do well to leave.

 

Her heart was pounding and her legs trembled with nervous anxiety, though she was trying her best to hide it behind a queenly mask of calm collectiveness.  _Was their love irreparably damaged?  Had she lost him forever?_ She clasped her hands in front of her and cautiously approached him, clearing her throat to reclaim his attention. 

 

“What can I do for you, your Grace?” he finally said, his tone dripping with bitter sarcasm.  “Perhaps you’ve come to tell me you’ve selected a proper wife for my new betrothal?  Let me guess, one of Lord Manderly’s daughters, or nay, Lord Glover’s?  We can ensure our line and appease the northern lords at the same fookin’ time!”

 

“Jon just stop,” she pleaded.  “I didn’t come here for that, I came here…”

 

“Aye!  I know why you’re here!” he shouted, cutting her off.  “And the answer is still no!”  He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, pacing over to a window so that his back was turned to her.  After a while, he turned to face her again, a pained expression on his face.  “For the longest time, I didn’t understand why the Lord of Light brought me back,” he said, his tone softer now.  “I didn’t want to be here.  I didn’t feel that my life had any purpose.”

 

“I know,” she whispered, saddened by the thought that fate could have easily prevented them from ever meeting in the first place.

 

“But then I met you,” he continued, looking into her eyes, “and everything made sense again.  I came back for _you_ , Daenerys, so that we could defeat the Night King _together_ and take back the Iron Throne _together_.  You’re what was missing from my life all this time.  You complete me.”

 

“And you complete me,” she said, her voice quivering with emotion.

 

“Then why?  Why are you trying to throw our love away?  We are enough, just the two of us.  Why can’t you understand that?”

 

“I  _do_ understand,” she said, tears freely falling down her cheeks.  “That’s why I’m here, Jon.  I came to apologize.  I was wrong …” – she swallowed heavily, trying to regain her bearings – ”… I shouldn’t have asked this of you.”

 

He said nothing and after an unbearable amount of time, she turned and walked away, only to feel him grab her arm from behind, stopping her.  She turned to face him and he cupped her face in his hands, wiping away one of the tears that had fallen, before brushing his lips against hers.

 

“I would rather spend a lifetime with you and be childless than to have a brood of children with a woman I don’t love,” he murmured, kissing her again as a small sigh escaped her lips.  “If I should fall on the battlefield, you will be the last thought that crosses my mind, Daenerys.  And if Gods forbid you should fall, I will never forgive myself for not being there to protect you, nor will I ever love another.  I love you so much.”

 

“And I love you,” she whispered.  “I’m so sorry, Jon.  Please forgive me.”

 

“Done, it’s over sweetheart,” he said lovingly, pulling her into his arms. 

 

Soon they were exchanging deep, passionate kisses, their mouths open and tongues exploring as they surrendered to their desperate need for one another.  Hands were everywhere, caressing and squeezing, as they murmured incoherent endearments through their kisses.  And then he picked her up, palming her ass as he carried her over to the map table, setting her down somewhere near the Reach.

 

She quivered and moaned as he nibbled and sucked on her neck while using deft fingers to unfasten the front of her dress. The top fell open, exposing her breasts and he latched onto a rosy nipple immediately, swirling his tongue around the tender flesh as ripples of desire surged through her.

 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his mouth claiming hers again as her hands trailed down to where his hardness strained against his trousers. She yearned to give him relief, hurriedly undoing ties and lacings until his thick shaft bobbed free, fully erect and begging for attention. 

 

His hands brushed up and down her legs, teasing her thighs apart as he positioned himself between them and slowly pushed her dress up to her waist.  She shuddered as his fingers grazed across her hot center. 

 

“I need these off,” he murmured in his gruff Northern accent, removing her small clothes with a sharp tug.  “Now let me have a taste.” 

 

She cried out as he pushed her back onto the map table, leaning forward to press a long, lingering kiss at the apex of her thighs. Her hips bucked involuntarily as he traced the outline of her sex with his tongue, teasing the bundle of nerves nestled at the top.  She spread her legs wider in invitation, desperate to feel him inside of her, but he ignored her request, instead continuing to tease and touch and push her ever closer to the edge.  She mewled wantonly as he speared her with his tongue, her eyes rolling back under fluttering lids as all thought and reason escaped her. 

 

“Please,” she whimpered, begging for him to take her, trembling with anticipation. 

 

Jon smirked knowingly as he pressed his hard length against her opening.  And with a deep growl, he buried himself completely, stretching her, filling her, as he established a steady rhythm.  A long moan escaped her lips as he pounded her into the map table, the neatly arranged figurines scattering across the seven kingdoms and onto the floor below with each passionate thrust.  A small part of her worried that they would have some serious explaining to do, were someone to discover the map table in such disarray, but she couldn’t be bothered with that now.  All she could think about was being in Jon’s arms, making sweet love to him again and again as she lost herself in the wonder of it all.

 

Waves of pleasure coursed through her as he thrust harder.  Faster. She met him stroke for stroke, their bodies in perfect sync, their hearts beating together as one.  He was stroking her into sweet oblivion, and it wasn’t long before she was tossing her head back in ecstasy as her body seemingly burst into flames, her climax sweeping through her like wild wire.  She screamed out his name, and when his mouth captured hers to silence the sound, she felt his body tremble as he drove deep within her, releasing his seed.

 

Panting heavily as they tried to catch their breath, they lay sprawled across the map table, still connected in the most intimate of ways, neither wanting to pull out or off of each other just yet.  He gazed down upon her and the smile that touched his lips sent her heart fluttering. 

 

“I love you,” she whispered, looking into his chestnut eyes as she ran her fingers through his beautiful curls.  “I love you so very much.”

 

“And I love you,” he said, dipping down to press his lips softly against hers.  “Now and always.”


End file.
